Read Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Bri Izzo
“Making you sick. I didn
’
t mean
to make you dizzy,” he calmly admits.
“Holy shit, ow,” I whine as my stitches pull. I grab
his wrist again to try to transfer the pain over to him. Doesn
’
t
work. Relaxing my eyebrows is the obvious next move, but when I try to relax my
face it
’
s nearly impossible. Why does this stuff keep
happening to me?
Alex and Benny both crane their necks so they can see
us after my outburst. A moment later, Skyler goes into coaching mode and
demands, “Close your eyes.” It
’
s easy to obey because I
’
m used to taking Skyler
’
s authoritative
orders. What I don
’
t realize is that it allows me to focus
on my head massage that
’
s slowly melting me. “Okay, open
them before you fall back and land on the floor,” he laughs, messing up my
shoulder-length hair.
“They
’
re not bleeding, are
they?” I question. They feel cool from being pulled, but I can
’
t
tell if it
’
s from blood or air.
“No, you
’re beautiful,
” he
replies, leaning towards me as he pushes the back of my head forward. He can
’
t kiss me right now. But I totally wouldn
’
t
hate it if he did. However, EVERYONE is watching us.
“That
’
s not what I asked,”
I chuckle.
“
I don’
t care,” he replies with
a smirk. And that
’
s when I realize he
’
s
starting a charade of kissing my forehead. It
’
s the second
time today, and it thaws me both times. He
’
s so gentle as
his lips brush the very top near my hairline, careful not to irritate any of my
stitches. Forget anything I told my brother earlier about nothing being able to
happen between us. Skyler
’
s definitely batting a thousand
in my book.
Beth can
’
t be bothered enough to take her
own daughter to get her forehead stitches out three
week
s
later, so I drive Buzz myself and sit in the room and watch. She bleeds a
little from having her skin pinched, but otherwise she
’
s
healing up pretty well. A dark colored line is still very prominent across her
forehead, and I wonder if she cares how it looks or how others will act once we
go back to school.
When the nurse brings a hand held mirror to Buzz, my
stomach knots. I don
’
t like that they
’
re
making such a big fucking deal about the scar that Buzz will have for the rest
of her life. She
’
s still gorgeous. Her eyes widen as she
sees her reflection and she carefully touches her forehead like it
’
s a delicate piece of art.
“Buzz, you
’
re-” I try to tell
her she
’
s beautiful despite any cosmetic imperfections,
but she cuts me off.
“I look like Frankenstein,” she announces with a
small smile like she
’
s actually happy about her
resemblance to a monster. That
’
s the moment I think she
’
s actually lost it, but I figure she
’
s
just putting on a brave face like always and it probably hasn
’
t
hit her that this will be on her face forever.
“Stop. No you don
’
t,”
I argue.
“Will you help me make a sexy Frankenstein costume
for Halloween this year?” she giggles, fully enjoying her new eyebrow moving
capabilities. I can
’
t believe she just fucking asked me
that. But props to her for embracing her new scar. All I can do is raise my
eyebrows at her in question, and when the silence becomes too much for her, she
lowers the mirror in her hands to look at me. “Sky?”
“If that
’
s what you want,
sweetheart,” I oblige. But I wait for her to break down because I want to be
there for her the second it fucking happens.
The first day of school come fall is her first real test. Alex
and Benny don
’
t have major birthday parties like I always
do; they usually choose to just go to the cabin. However, they
’
re
overly protective of Buzz and turn down even that option as well. Instead, we
just attend a Cubs game with all of our families, and they
’
re
satisfied with that being their celebration. After Buzz
’
s
accident us kids never went back to the cabin. Luckily, our dads went up to the
cabin without us one weekend to clean the boat and store everything away for
the winter so Buzz and I wouldn
’
t have to relive that
horrible day the next time we drive up there. It was the first Fourth of July
that I can remember that wasn
’
t spent at the cabin or
playing our Annual Sandlot game on the front lawn. We still played it at the
park down the street in Hinsdale, but it was a little strange with Buzz on the
sidelines watching. She helped our dads light off the fireworks as we played,
which incidentally, made her sick. A severe headache and puke couldn’t ruin her
favorite day of the year, though. Props to her. I think it helped her to know
she’d be sleeping next to me whether we were in her basement or my bedroom.
That’s kind of become our routine now. Not sure how our parents are all okay
with it; although, I’m still not allowed to sleep in Buzz’s room. I think they’re
all okay with it because I’m legitimately taking care of Buzz, not hooking up
with her. We haven’t kissed once since the miracle kiss at the park right after
she got out of the hospital. I think Beth is just happy she doesn’t have to worry
about her kid, which is shitty. Since school starts today, though, Buzz stayed
at her house last night, which left me alone with my horrid thoughts of the
accident.
I call Buzz at 6:30 a.m. the first morning of her
sophomore year, my junior. “McCallum wants to talk to us before first period.
Are you ready that I can pick you up right now?” He sent me a text late last
night, and I accidentally responded to it at two in the morning when I woke up
from a nightmare of Buzz drowning.
“Ugh… you
’
re lucky I
’
m not high maintenance,” she grunts and starts to make
shuffling noises like she
’
s just starting to get ready for
school.
“Be there in five,”
I warn her.
The hallways feel like it
’
s
still summer break when Buzz and I arrive at 6:45 a.m. since they
’
re
empty, a calm before the storm of students scurry around them in a few hours.
We walk to the athletic office and find Coach McCallum sitting at his desk
drinking coffee.
“Swanson, good to see you,” he greets me as we
exchange a cordial handshake. Then he looks at Buzz like she
’
s
the toughest person in the world, like she didn
’
t almost
die over the summer. I
’
m thankful that he isn
’
t trying to baby her about it though; she doesn
’
t
want anyone to treat her differently after what happened. “Bianca, how are you
feeling?” he asks as all three of us sit down in our respective chairs. She
looks tough with her scar completely exposed below her hair and a neon yellow
shirt that says, “
Watch out,
” like she
’
s
a giant construction warning sign.
“Okay. I
’
m just going to see how
the first week goes. Take it slow,” she explains with a strong presence. I
’
m so damn proud of her for the way she
’
s
handling everything. She could let this accident ruin her, but she
’
s taking the high road. I never hear her complain about going to
physical therapy or any other doctors or therapists. It has to be frustrating
to hang out with more doctors than friends over the summer, but she keeps a
smile on her face every day as she improves her strength, physically and
mentally.
“Have the doctors said anything about softball?” he
wonders cautiously. He doesn
’
t want to make it about the
game, but come on, she
’
s his best pitcher; of course he
’
s curious.
“I should be fine by spring. I
’
ll
just need a special extra padded helmet and hat when I
’
m
pitching. I hope that
’
s okay,” she worriedly tells him.
“Of course. Whatever you need,” he agrees. “Skyler,
you
’
re going to keep working with her during the off
season?” His fatherly look is comforting in knowing I still have my job as her
personal pitching coach. When I nod he adds, “Okay, so then the real reason I
brought you two in here…” Buzz and I exchange a knowing glance. We
’
ve had this conversation with everyone close to us; I just
never thought it would be with her head coach. “I can
’
t
exactly have one of our pitching coaches dating one of our pitchers.”
“We
’
re not dating,” we chorus,
which doesn
’
t help our case. Sitting straighter in my
chair, I inform him, “I was her pitching coach last year and was there when her
accident happened. We aren
’
t dating, but we are a packaged
deal. We
’
re best friends, and I
’
m
helping her through her recovery.” I
’
m afraid to look at
Buzz, scared of her reaction to my declaration. She easily would still play
softball if I wasn
’
t her pitching coach. I
’
d
make her if it came down to it. But fuck, I want to be there for her again.
“You
’
re
not
dating?”
he puzzles. I
’
m not sure who told him that
we were, but he
’
s obviously really confused about the
situation.
Welcome to the club.
“No,” we answer in unison again.
“
Well
… then we don
’
t
have an issue,” McCallum thinks aloud.
As we walk out of his office and into the hallway,
Buzz whispers to me, “Well that was awkward.”
“No shit,” I agree.
“Packaged deal?” she repeats my words from inside his
office. Shit.
“Just an empty threat,” I tell her, casually
shrugging it off.
As we continue towards the staircase to the cafeteria
where everyone always hangs out before first period, I hear the hustle and
bustle of the new school year beginning with our classmates pouring into the
hallways. “Hey,” I stop Buzz before she takes the first step up. Her eyes widen
up at me with innocence and worry even though I know she
’
s
trying to deny it. Today could be rough for her with everyone staring and
talking despite her attempt of distracting from her face by wearing a warning
sign as a shirt. I look at her exposed forehead displaying her intense scar,
then back at her eyes, and ask her, “You ready?”
“Yeah,” she nods, but I feel the nervousness
throughout her entire body and voice.
“You don
’
t have to bullshit me,”
I remind her.
“I
’
m not,” she argues, adjusting
her messenger bag on her shoulder. Since we are still secluded from everyone, I
place a quick kiss on her forehead for moral support. To be honest I just
wanted to fucking kiss her. Sue me.
When we walk up the stairs to enter the cafeteria,
about half of the people who pass us do a double take to check out Buzz
’
s shirt and possibly her scar, too. At first I
’
m
proud of her for not paying them any attention and continuing her stride, but
then I realize she hasn
’
t seen them. I nonchalantly glare
at everyone looking at her, but she doesn
’
t notice that
either. Her eyes fall onto Chase Morgan and his friends sitting at a table. I
know because she stops walking abruptly, and I run into her backside. If she
had a normal backpack I would
’
ve ran right into that, but
luckily she has a messenger bag, so it
’
s her actual back
that brings me to a halt. This is definitely too intimate for school, but I don
’
t fucking care.
“Buzz, you
’
re okay,” I encourage
her in a quiet voice. When she doesn
’
t say anything, I
place my hand on her shoulder and suggest, “Let
’
s just go.”
Sitting with our usual crew makes Buzz act more like
herself, but as people walk by she
’
s starting to notice
them looking more at her forehead than her shirt, causing her to bow down to
try to hide it.
“I have Spanish first period. I can
’
t
even speak English this early,” Tiffany complains as she reads her schedule.
“C
á
llate,”
Benny shouts at her while laughing.
“You shut up!” Tiff yells, slapping him on the arm.
“
See? You
’
ll
be fine,” he teases his little sister.
“B, what did McCallum want?” Alex asks Buzz from
across the table.
She isn
’
t paying attention, so
he nudges her to gain her attention. “Sorry,” she slowly shakes her head to
come back. I
’
m pretty sure she
’
s still staring at Chase.
“He just wanted to know how I was
doing.”
“With Skyler, too?” he wonders, but he isn
’
t angry or accusatory. It
’
s the first time
since we were ten that he didn
’
t cringe when he thought of
us together.
“He just wanted to make sure Sky was going to work
with me in the off-season,” she explains. She thankfully leaves out the second
half of our conversation with Coach Mac.
“You are, right?” he questions me. He knows this
requires us to be together. He
’
s either dumb or finally
throwing in his towel.
“Yeah, for sure,” I confirm.
The first day of school fucking drags. Actually every
day of school drags, but it
’
s hour after boring hour of
hearing about people
’
s summer vacations. I manage to not
have lunch at the same time as anyone in our crew, so I send Alex and Benny
both texts to have them make sure Buzz eats something substantial. When the
final bell of the day sounds, I wait for Buzz at her locker down the sophomores
’
hallway.
“Are you lost? This was your hallway last year,” she
snickers, unscrambling her locker combination to put some books away.
“Wow. Was your first day that bad?” I joke. The
hallway is crowded, so I don
’
t expect a legitimate answer
from her yet. I notice her hair is still perfectly straightened and off her
face tucked behind her ears. For some reason I was pondering all day whether or
not she was going to do something to hide her scar after all the people paying
attention to her. But she
’
s stronger than that, and I need
to forget about it; I
’
m just as bad as everyone around her
even though all summer I never saw it. I guess I
’
m just worried
that a bigger audience might get to her.